John and Delenn in Doubts and Regrets
by NWHS
Summary: Gapfiller for Season 4, Episode 4: Falling Toward Apothesis. Delenn learns that Sheridan's days are numbered and he proposes. Did it really all go smoothly? Did they have any doubts or regrets?
1. Chapter 1: Second Thoughts

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Delenn of Mir and John Sheridan**

**Author: NWHS**

**Doubts and Regrets**

**Chapter 1: Second Thoughts**

**Part 1**

The flames flickered silently, their light minimally settling on the kneeling woman. The warmth of the flames' glow could do nothing to heat the chill in Delenn's bones, the frost around her shattered heart.

"_He was gravely wounded at Z'Ha'Dum. He was dying. He was dead. I did all I could to help him, but I cannot create life. Only the universe can do that. I can extend, enhance. There is no magic, nothing spiritual about it, only the application of energies . . . healing and rebuilding cells. I gave him back a portion of his life, but only a portion."_

"_How long?"_

"_In human terms, barring injury and illness, perhaps twenty years. But no more than that. And then, one day he will simply . . . stop."_

It was no good; Delenn couldn't meditate, her mind unable to relax, to think of anything other than Lorien's words to her, and John's fate.

_I did this to him. My half truths, my lies of omission did this to him. Twenty years. Oh, Valen, he only has twenty years left, and if it weren't for Lorien, he wouldn't even have that meager time. He would be dead; he was dead._

She stood, giving up the pretense of meditation. Delenn moved into the small kitchen area, remembering John's marriage proposal. She couldn't believe after all she'd kept from him that he would want to bond himself to her, become her mate.

She reached for a container of tea herbs but stopped, her hands shaking with tension, with grief. Delenn tried not to cry, for herself, for him, but the tears came. The heat of them burned her cheeks; the flames of the unknowing complicity in his death scorched her heart as deep and painful as any fourth degree burn.

Delenn dropped to the kitchen floor, her legs unable to hold the weight of her guilt. She had killed him as surely as the Shadows did. He deserved to know about Anna, her suspicions about her cruel fate. Anna was his wife and she had no right to keep the truth from him. Was her mission more important than his right to make an informed decision? Once, she would've answered with an unequivocal, yes, but now she didn't know. She just didn't know.

Who was she to make such life altering decisions for him? What made her think her vision of the future and what needed to be done was clearer than John's? She was Minbari, and to her people, understanding wasn't necessary only obedience. Yet, John Sheridan, wasn't Minbari and she was as guilty as any of the older races who viewed the younger ones, like humans, with paternal oversight and arrogant wisdom.

And then there was her personal interest in him that had nothing to do with Valen's prophecy. Perhaps the selfish side of her prevented Delenn from being honest with John about Anna. She forced herself to entertain that possible truth through the veil of her tears.

She had begun the mating rituals with John knowing there was a possibility that his wife was still alive. Yes, the probability of her existence free of Shadow control was extremely slim. Still, did she have the right to cross that invisible line, even if her heart had already done so? Probably not. Most assuredly not.

She had indeed been selfish. Delenn had fallen in love with the very man destined to save the universe from the darkness, the solider who would push back the darkness with his indomitable light, his unflinching will. She simply sought to get to know the captain better. Yet, the more she learned about him, the more she wanted to know him. And the more she knew him, the more time she wished to spend with him. And so it went until her heart was so full of John Sheridan that she couldn't find her way out of her self-created web, even if she wanted to.

Through tear blurred eyes, Delenn peered down at the diamond ring John had given her. He called it an engagement ring, a symbol of his commitment and promise. She fingered the ring, her self- deprecation increasing as it sparkled its innocent shine.

_I don't deserve this ring. I don't deserve him._

She stood, wiped her wet face, and moved determinedly. She couldn't do this. She should have never accepted his proposal. There would always be secrets between them, secrets Delenn was unwilling to share, too afraid to reveal. How could the two of them build a marriage on a sandy foundation of partial truths and secrets?

Delenn wrapped herself in a thick brown hooded cloak, exited her quarters, and headed for blue sector.

**Part 2**

John Sheridan lie awake in his bed, eyes fixed on the bland, white ceiling. He'd done it. He'd finally managed to ask the woman he loved to marry him. The entire route back to Babylon 5 from Z'Ha'Dum had been one of deep reflection.

After learning the truth, he'd been angry with Delenn. Hell, he'd been furious, so much so in fact, that he had taken her arms in his rough hands and shaken her. He cringed at the memory, the way he looked at her—a contorted volatile mask—his voice harsh, uncaring. That had been her last image of him before he turned his back on her. She'd confessed her love for him, finally in words, and he had abandoned her, his sense of betrayal strong, unyielding.

He'd boarded that Whitestar with Anna knowing his wife was finally and truly dead. The woman who traveled with him into the snake's lair was nothing more than an empty, soul-less, Shadow controlled shell. In spite of his anger, John was forced to admit that Delenn had been right. In the war ahead, one could never be more important than the whole, even if that one had been his wife.

Yet, when he called forth the ship to bomb the planet and made that fateful jump, he didn't do so to save the universe or even to punish those who harmed Anna. No, he'd done it for the love and life of one woman—Delenn of Mir. And she was his last thought as he died and his first thought when part of his life was returned to him.

"_You told me that humans live to be 100 years old, even older. I told you I was afraid that I would get you back only to lose you. And that's what this is. Twenty years."_

"_I went into this with my eyes open. I knew if I went to Z'Ha'Dum . . . there'd be a price. Seems there's always a price. I'm okay with this."_

John sat up in bed, sweat forming on his forehead. He swung the covers from his body, exposing hairy legs and bare feet. In spite of the late hour, he couldn't sleep, the stress headache making rest impossible. He stood, wiped the moisture from his forehead, wishing he could erase his doubts just as easily.

"_It's not exactly what I had in mind, but . . . It's temporary until I get you a real engagement ring. It's an Earth custom. You see, you give someone you love . . . an engagement ring as a kind of down payment for another ring . . . the kind that you exchange when you get married. I don't know when we'll be able to get to that part of it. We may not survive the next two weeks. But I wanted you to know that whatever time I have left . . . I want to spend it with you."_

John still hadn't fully come to terms with his twenty year life extension. Before Z'Ha'Dum, before Delenn, before Babylon 5, he'd imagined living out his years in Earthforce, retiring, and finding a little patch of land to build a home. Preferably, some place on Earth where the summers were mild and the winters even milder.

But his life had taken an unexpected turn, and he hadn't as yet figured out whether that turn had been for the better or the worse. He huffed and ran a hand through his pillow-matted hair. In spite of what he told Delenn, John wasn't okay with dying in his early sixties. He was grateful to be alive, for sure, but the knowledge that he wouldn't live past the age his father was now pained him on a level he couldn't begin to fathom.

He found the nearest wall and leaned against it, thinking. He would eventually have to tell his parents, his sister, and his friends. John rubbed his temples, envisioning those conversations, especially the one with his parents. They would be devastated. Delenn was right, most humans did live to see the century mark; and really healthy and lucky ones more than that.

This thought made him frown. He had been healthy and damn lucky over the years, having kept all body parts where they belonged, in spite of the physical trauma that naturally accompanies the life of a soldier. He was healthy, or he _had_ been healthy—before Z'Ha'Dum, before his fall into oblivion.

His room began to spin and John slumped to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest.

_She will outlive you. You'll give her only twenty years and you'll die, leaving her alone. For how long? Shit, for how long, John? How long do Minbari live?_

He slammed his fist against the floor, realizing he didn't know shit about Minbari mortality or physiology and even less about Delenn's special case. They never talked about it. She didn't share and he never bothered to ask. It wasn't important—until now. John always assumed they had time—he had time.

Yet, now all had changed, and he didn't know what kind of life he would be subjecting Delenn to if she married him. Why had she accepted his offer of marriage, anyway? Pity? Guilt? Penance?

_No, no, she wouldn't do that. But she had taken the news of my limited lifespan pretty hard and, without a doubt, there was guilt in those haunted green eyes of hers. Fuck, I should've asked her first then I would know for sure. But what if I had asked her first, she said yes, and then told her about the twenty years? Would she have felt trapped, tricked even? God dammit!_

John rose to his feet, went to his closet, and pulled out a shirt and pair of pants. He considered his situation while he dressed.

_She shouldn't have to settle for half a man, half a marriage. Delenn deserves better, much better than a husband with a time bomb attached to him. I may not know much about her physiology, but I'm pretty sure she'll live a helluva lot longer than I will. Probably, decades longer, and she'll be alone. What a raw deal. She shouldn't have to be stuck with me because I was fool enough to run off to Z'Ha'Dum and got myself killed. _

John finished dressing, walked out of his bedroom and to the front door. It cycled open; he strolled out, head aching like hell, and headed for green sector.

**Part 3**

John Sheridan approached Delenn's door, the corridor quiet and empty. The lateness of the hour contributing to the bleakness he felt, or so he told himself. He lifted his right hand and rang for entrance. John waited patiently, scanning the shadows for movement, like any good soldier who understood nightmares weren't confined to the dream realm.

A third buzz, five minutes later, yet no Delenn. Patience be damned.

"Captain Sheridan to Command and Control."

"Yes, Captain," Ivanova answered, her voice alert, if not questioning. "What can I do for you at 0200 hours in the morning?"

Ignoring her annoyed tone, he said, "Please admit me into Ambassador Delenn's quarters."

A heavy sigh and two beeps followed his request. She'd switched to privacy mode.

"I can't do that, sir," she eventually said after a long pause. "You know, the right to privacy and all that, John."

"I don't need a lecture on constitutional rights; I just need you to let me into Delenn's quarters. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

He looked around, and while he was the only one out, he felt like an idiot standing in front of Delenn's door talking to his hand.

"It's late, or rather early," Ivanova said. "I'm sure she's asleep, which is what you should be doing instead of stalking the ambassador."

He heard a barely concealed chuckle, which did nothing for his anger or concern. Surely, Delenn wasn't that deep of a sleeper that she wouldn't hear the doorbell sound. What if something was wrong? He was wasting time with Susan.

"Susan, just let me in. This is Delenn we're talking about, not the average station ambassador. If it were anyone else, I would go through proper channels. It's important," he finished with a pathetic sigh he hoped would melt her frosty Russian attitude.

"If Delenn didn't have an obvious soft spot for you, I wouldn't even consider doing this."

The door clicked and slid open.

"Don't make me regret it," she said, before shutting down the line.

Relieved, John moved inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dark except for a few unattended burning candles.

Unsure of what to do now that he was inside, he called out to her. No answer. He called out again, louder, walking in the direction of her partially closed bedroom door.

Slowly, he slid the door completely open and glanced inside. Empty.

"Where in the hell is she?"

His pulse quickened as thoughts of a hurt Delenn flashed through his mind. Images of her bleeding, weak form with a knife embedded in her, burned his mind. A small, pale, and helpless Delenn in Medlab mocked him. He couldn't even say the words 'I love you,' back then, even though his soul knew it months before. He'd been afraid, weak . . . too cautious.

John considered calling Susan again. But what would he say? 'Put an all points bulletin out on my missing fiancée because she's not where I thought she should be.' That sounded dumb, paranoid, and jealous, even to him, and he refused to be _that_ guy. He was in fact, that guy, but he'd be damn if he let Susan know it.

Instead, John found a comfortable spot on her sofa, took his shoes off, and waited.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2: No Rest for the Weary

**Chapter 2: No Rest for the Weary**

**Part 1**

Susan Ivanova sat in Sheridan's office chair going over the schedule of departure and arrival times of ships for the upcoming week. She managed to leave C and C before a crisis happened. As of late, it seemed there was always a crisis to avert, prepare for, or overcome.

But what really had her mind spinning was the brief conversation she had with her captain not more than ten minutes ago. She really didn't want to know why he was trying to gain access to Delenn's quarters at two o'clock in the morning. And why hadn't Delenn answered the door? Was she even inside? If not, where was she this time of night? Had they had an argument?

No, she definitely didn't want to know.

_It's none of your business, Susan. Just leave it alone. They're both adults and can handle . . . whatever in the hell is between them. _

And she honestly had no idea of the extent of their relationship, if she could even call it that. It was obvious to anyone with eyes, even an impaired one, that the captain and the Minbari Ambassador had developed relationship beyond a working one, beyond platonic. But how far past platonic was anyone's guess.

Susan shook her head, trying to focus on her work, her shift, hours from being over.

"John, I . . ."

Susan looked up to see a figure in the doorway. The entire form was covered in a cloak, making it unable for Susan to see her unexpected visitor, but she thought she'd recognized the voice. Uncertain, she slowly reached for the PPG at her side. She gripped the weapon and started to pull it from the hoister, her eyes fixed on the intruder.

"Sorry, Commander," the familiar voice came, "I thought John would be here."

Realization hit and Susan relaxed.

"Delenn, you were almost the victim of friendly fire."

Even with the hood covering her face, Susan knew the ambassador was displaying her typical confused Minbari frown. The look that said humans were the strangest species in the universe in need of lessons in etiquette.

Delenn removed her hood. Yup, she'd been right.

_How can she make that frown appear so deep without eyebrows?_

Susan shivered, not wanting to think about that either. Unfortunately, she knew why Delenn was here and she damn sure wasn't going to go down that rabbit hole.

"Sorry to disappoint, Ambassador, but it's only me. The captain won't return to duty until 0800 hours."

_What in the hell is going on here? How can two intelligent people run around the station looking for the other when they could've simply called each other's quarters first; thereby preventing this comedy of errors? Not your business, Susan, try to remember that._

"Of course," Delenn said, looking around. "He wasn't in his quarters so naturally I assumed he would be here. I didn't mean to disturb you, Commander, perhaps I should leave."

She said this but made no move to exit the office. In fact, she was fidgeting, which wasn't like the composed Minbari at all. She bit her lip and twisted the edge of the cloak. Susan stood, walked around the desk, already regretting her next words.

"Is there something on your mind, Delenn?"

It was obvious something was on the ambassador's mind or she wouldn't be out this time of morning with a cloak that shielded her from prying eyes. The question was whether she would cop to it or not. And while Susan had initiated the little sister to sister pow-wow, she really hoped Delenn would refrain, images of a newly transformed Delenn with hair issues rushing to the fore.

She fidgeted a bit more then came fully into the office, settling down on the couch.

_Me and my big mouth._

Susan sat at the other end of the couch, eyeing Delenn wearily. Her last glimmer of hope was that Delenn was probably too proud to go into too much personal detail. Then again, she reasoned, the questions Delenn tended to ask about human customs had absolutely nothing to do with her Minbari pride. In fact, she tended not to understand how brutally uncomfortable her innocently probing queries could be.

_Ah, hell._

Susan watched Delenn open and close her mouth several times. Seems she wasn't the only one disturbed by the prospect of opening Pandora's box of secrets.

Finally, she flopped back on the couch in exasperation and said, "I don't understand human males."

Despite herself, Susan couldn't help but laugh.

"At least you have an excuse, I'm human and I don't understand them either."

They both laughed then, Susan leaning back against the couch pillows as well.

"Did you and the captain have a fight? Is that why you're trying to find him, to make up?"

She shook her head. "Nothing like that, Susan. I wish it were that simple."

Delenn took a breath, pulled up her sleeve, and moved her left arm in Susan's direction. "He asked me to marry him."

Now it was Susan who took a deep breath; several in fact, the floor seeming to jump up and smack her in the forehead saying, 'Gotcha.'

"What? What?" she managed to stammer in an undignified manner.

_See, this is the reason why I mind my damn business. When in the hell did they go from making goggling eyes at each other to 2.5 kids and a picket fence?_

Delenn rolled the sleeve back down and resumed her position, the one that said she was anything but relaxed.

After picking her face up off the floor, Susan donned an air of professional bystander.

"I assume since you're wearing his ring, you accepted his proposal."

Delenn nodded and Susan grimaced.

"And now you're having second thoughts."

She nodded again.

_Oh boy._

When would she ever learn? Susan was the absolute last person anyone should come to for relationship advice, and here was Delenn, in a quagmire searching for a rope to pull herself free. And the only person she could find on the other side of the life preserver to haul her out of the swamp was a relationship impotent commander with Marcus issues.

"Why did you say, yes, if you didn't want to marry him?"

"I never said I didn't wish to marry him. You asked if I was having second thoughts."

_Minbari and their damn logic._

She felt a headache, or was it a jackhammer banging its way into her cerebral cortex, doing irreparable damage.

"So," she said with annoyed patience, "if you want to marry, John, why are you having second thoughts?"

Delenn sighed and started playing with the diamond ring, swirling it around her long, thin finger. It was a lovely ring, Susan thought, wondering when in the hell John had time to purchase the thing once returning to the station a resurrected man. Or had he intended to ask her before Anna returned and all hell broke loose, and he ran off to Z'Ha'Dum and to his untimely death?

"It's complicated."

"Is that Minbari-speak for you'd rather not talk about it?" she asked, feeling a tad piqued.

Delenn turned her head toward her and raised an absent brow.

"No, Commander, I just . . . just don't know what I'm going to do."

She ran a nervous hand over her neck, and blinked back exhausted, red eyes.

"Minbari and humans are different, Susan, sometimes more different than I realize."

Susan gave Delenn an appraising look, and then scowled.

"Are you telling me you won't marry John because he's human? That doesn't sound like you."

Now it was Delenn's turn to give an annoyed sigh of her own.

"Minbari and humans see the universe from disparate perspectives."

"Too disparate to build a life together, to get married and have children?" she asked, genuinely concerned about the ambassador.

This really wasn't like Delenn. She was one of the rare breed who actually built bridges instead of standing on her own self-imposed cultural island.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I'm not sure I can make him happy, be the woman he wants me to be."

"What makes you think John wants you to be anyone other than who you are?"

She didn't answer.

Susan leaned over, placing her elbows on her knees, taking short, controlled breaths. She really needed to get back to work and mind her damn business. And then she thought about John and what he must be going through not knowing where Delenn was. He would probably space her if he knew she had Delenn in his office and hadn't informed him, putting his mind at rest.

She didn't know exactly when it happened, perhaps when Delenn was kidnapped by those Nightwatch assholes and took the knife meant for Sheridan. No, probably before that, definitely before that, Susan reasoned, sparing a glance at Delenn, who looked like she was meditating with her eyes open. The bottom line, Susan told herself, was that the Minbari Ambassador and the Earth Captain were shining examples of what can happen when species put aside their prejudices and learn to work together. They can save the universe, liberate the weak, and fall in love.

And there was no doubt Delenn loved Sheridan and him her. So, why was the ambassador here doubting herself instead of in her bed, a blissfully engaged woman, with images of John Sheridan dancing in her Religious Caste head?

Susan straightened, rubbing a fatigued hand over her eyes.

"Don't make a decision tonight you'll regret in the morning, Ambassador."

Delenn gradually turned to face her, the woman's eyes the same sad, defeatist shade of green she'd seen when the two of them, along with Lyta Alexander, went to Z'Ha'Dum after Sheridan and found no sign of him, concluding he was dead. They were wrong then, as wrong as Delenn was now.

If anyone could make an interspecies marriage work, Delenn and John could. Susan was sure of that. Unfortunately, the woman beside her wasn't. And if Susan knew anything about Delenn of Mir, it was that she wasn't easily swayed once she'd made up her mind. Such a stubborn trait was not one unique to Minbari, she freely admitted, counting herself as one who possessed the same trait . . . in spades.

So, Susan knew she would do nothing but waste her breath trying to talk reason to Delenn. There was only one person who could do that and he was probably tearing the station in two looking for her. In fact, Susan was surprised she hadn't heard from the captain again, all quiet on the Sheridan front, if you will.

_That's not like him; not when it comes to Delenn, at least._

She almost laughed aloud, realizing where he was—the one place Delenn would eventually appear.

_Her quarters._

"Tell you what, Delenn. Why don't you return to your quarters and try to get a good night's sleep. You look as exhausted as I feel; John's death and return taking its toll on all of us."

Delenn nodded numbly and stood.

"You're right, Commander, it's very late and I can't remember the last time I slept."

She said this calmly but with a tone that suggested she didn't believe she would be able to sleep, or sleep peacefully. Susan ignored it, hoping her hypothesis about John being in Delenn's quarters was correct. If left in this state of mind and given more time to convince herself that she and the captain weren't meant to be . . . well, Susan wasn't confident that even John could tell her otherwise.

Needing no more encouragement, Delenn silently, if not absently, made to leave, returning the hood to her head. And in her unspoken departure, grief, guilt, uncertainty washed over Susan like a tide over a pebble. Not her own, but Delenn's, her low-level telepathy, making it difficult for even Susan to miss.

_God speed, Delenn._

**Part 2**

Delenn made her way to the transport tube and back to green sector. She thought it would be done by now, all her hopes to end the engagement quickly dashed when John wasn't in his quarters. She waited several minutes, ringing the bell, hoping to rouse him from his sleep before realizing that he may have been called to C and C.

She went to Command and Control, praying there hadn't been yet another emergency. No emergency. No John. The only other place she thought he would be at such a dreadful hour was his office. So, she made her way there only to find Ivanova sitting behind his desk.

Now, she was in front of her door, having accomplished nothing other than prolonging the inevitable and nearly falling apart in front of Susan.

She lifted her left hand, preparing to input her security code, but she stopped. The diamond ring glistened in the bright artificial light of the hallway. She sighed, closed her eyes, remembering.

"_Is it?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_You don't know, you and Kosh came to my quarters. You showed me images from Z'Ha'Dum of Anna and the crew of the Icarus . . . waking up the Shadows. You gave me every reason to believe she was dead! How could you do that when you didn't know for sure?"_

"_Those who would not serve the Shadows were killed. That we knew without question. We assumed she would not serve. Perhaps we were wrong._

"_Anna would never work for those things!"_

"_Then I have no explanation."_

"_You have no explanation. That's it? Damn it, Delenn, I have always felt that you were holding out on me . . . on a couple of things. I figured you had your reasons, but this? I mean, if you weren't sure, if there was even a chance of her being alive . . . why didn't you tell me?"_

"_Because you would have gone . . . to Z'Ha'Dum after her. We couldn't allow that."_

"_You and Kosh. You couldn't allow it. I trusted you, Delenn. I cared for you. I let myself start to love you. Do you know what that means? Do you know how hard that was for me? A little part of me was still in love with Anna, even though she was gone. I had to fight that part off every time I thought about you, about . . . about holding you, about building a life for the two of us."_

"_John, you must believe me. I didn't know she was alive. We assumed that she had died with the rest of the crew . . . that only Morden had survived."_

"_And had you known . . . would you have told me?"_

"_It would depend. It would depend on what she had come become. Z'Ha'Dum is the Homeworld of the Shadows. No one leaves the same as they arrived."_

"_You would've denied me the right to make that choice. How can you say that and expect me to ever trust you again?"_

He said he had forgiven her, but how could he when she couldn't even forgive herself. He'd jumped, he'd fallen, he'd died. Because of her, that she could never forgive, never forget.

She raised her right hand, removed the ring, and stored it in the pocket of her cloak. She should have never accepted it in the first place, she chided, vowing to rectify the situation come morning.

Delenn entered her code, the door slid open, and she entered, relieved to be home, relieved to have a few quiet hours to herself before she faced John.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3: Discussions and Decisions

**Chapter 3: Discussions and Decisions**

**Part 1**

Delenn was so very tired; she didn't want to think anymore. All she desired to do was light a few candles, recline on her bed, and allow meditation to transport her to another dimension, one where peace was her friend and her old nemesis- guilt- was bound, gagged, and out of sight.

"Lights at fifty percent," she said, removing her hood and unzipping the cloak, thankful for the soft illumination and quiet of her quarters.

She turned, intending to make for her bedroom, but Delenn tensed, catching the slightest movement to her right. She slipped her hand in her right pocket, taking hold of a small item, her hand wrapping around it.

Delenn could hear the breathing so clearly now, the intruder right behind her. She estimated how much time it would take for her to pivot, spin around, and strike before he could level his own attack. It would be close, but what choice did she have, he was already so near.

Decision made, she relaxed, prepared to defend herself, with deadly force if necessary. She started to move and then came the voice.

"My God, it's the middle of the night, Delenn, what were you doing out?"

"John," Delenn said with a whisper, relaxing the hand that gripped the item in her cloak pocket. Another second or two more and she would have . . . Well, she didn't want to think about what would've or could've happened if he didn't speak up when he did.

_What is he doing here?_

She whirled around to him, her face a mask for the shock she felt at finding him in her quarters. She wasn't ready for this; she thought she was when she left her quarters an hour or so ago, but she was wrong. Looking at him now, Delenn knew this to be true.

"Hell, Delenn, I've been waiting for you for . . ." He looked around, she assumed for a clock. Unable to find one, he angrily shrugged his shoulders. "Too damn long. Where in the hell have you been? Do you know how dangerous it is for a woman to be running around the station this time of night? Something could've happened to you. Did you ever think of that?"

And so the litany of rampaging questions went and Delenn felt the first flush of feminist irritation creep into her egalitarian muscles. It was better than the fear and guilt she'd felt when she first heard his voice. It wasn't the emotion she was going for, but it would do. A Minbari, after all, had to protect herself, even if that meant going on the offensive.

"We aren't even married yet and you think to dictate my comings and goings, John Sheridan. You have no authority over me and my acceptance of your engagement ring didn't mean I relinquished my independence to you."

She was gearing up for more, the irrational force to defend herself by striking out at John in order to make him see how incompatible they were was strong—cruelly so. Delenn simply wanted to run and hide from the inevitable. If they married, he would regret it, secrets never stayed buried and John would eventually find out hers.

Humans didn't understand honor in the same way as Minbari. Honor to humans meant sacrifice and absolute truth; to her people it meant obedience, faith, pride. Full disclosure was never expected or demanded.

"That's not what I meant and you damn well know it. You shouldn't be out so late by yourself. The station isn't always safe, you know that, Delenn."

"I can take care of myself, John. I've told you that before."

"You should've had Lennier or one of the Rangers with you, if there was something _so_ pressing that pulled you from your quarters at two in the morning."

His eyebrows raised, giving her a questioning look she didn't understand.

She walked around him, pulling her cloak to her, remembering what she was wearing when she hastily decided to seek him out. She wasn't thinking clearly then, wishing she'd taken time to dress properly. Oh well, there was no help for it now.

"I can take care of myself," she repeated.

"What if some nut job tried to harm you? What would you have done? You're so . . . so . . . _tiny_," he finished, using his hands to form something small, she guessed.

Her anger flared, and then she remembered Susan's words from long ago. 'Human males think because they're bigger and stronger than us that size is the only thing that matters in combat. They're wrong, of course, and seem wholly surprised when a woman proves it to them. The funny thing is that they adamantly deny that size matters in other realms, areas where we women think it undeniably does.'

Delenn didn't understand the last part but she grasped the meaning of the first. She removed the item from her pocket, opened her palm, and showed it to John.

It was small, silver, and fit perfectly in the center of her hand, and John scoffed at it.

"What is that little thing supposed to do?"

She released a catch and the five-inch innocent item, sprang into a six-foot weapon of Minbari destruction.

"I think you're familiar with the denn'bok, the Minbari fighting pike, John. The Warrior Caste aren't the only ones trained in its use."

John gulped and she released the catch, transforming it back into a pint-sized carry on.

He stared at her. His face was hard, his lips set in a thin grimace, fists clenched to his sides.

It was best this way; she tried to convince herself. They would only hurt each other, the way they already had. Her conversation with Dr. Franklin, after John's death, rang in her ears.

"_Is there a problem?"_

"_Well, you tell me. I hear you haven't had anything to eat or drink in almost seven days."_

"_Minbari can fast as long as two weeks."_

"_A normal Minbari, yes, but you're partly human now. Your system can't handle the stress you're putting on it. If you don't stop, you're going to hurt yourself. Look, I know this is how your people deal with grief, all right? You fast. You purify yourselves physically, spiritually. But nothing is going to be served by endangering your own life."_

"_Justice is served. It is my fault that John is gone, my fault that the Alliance against the Shadows has crumbled. That the heart has gone out of them._

_For a long time . . . I was afraid his wife might be alive on Z'Ha'Dum, but I . . . I never asked. I never told him. I denied him the right to choose his actions wisely. I broke the trust between us. And when he learned the truth on his own . . . he didn't choose his actions. His actions chose him. And he went away. I have sometimes heard humans say: 'Minbari never tell anyone the whole truth.' But I am no longer wholly Minbari. I should have changed my heart more than I did. But I loved him, and I . . . I wanted to protect him. I should have loved him less and trusted him more."_

Delenn turned away from him, clutching the cloak to her, its warmth the only heat she could feel in the suddenly frigid room. Then there were strong arms around her, pulling her weak form against an equally strong chest.

"I'm sorry I acted like a moron," John said in her ear, his breath, and body melting her falsely cool exterior.

"I didn't mean a thing I said. I was just worried about you; damned worried, to be honest. When you weren't here, I couldn't help replaying what happened to you with Nightwatch. I know they're gone, but still, there is darkness coming our way."

He gripped her tighter, the strength of his hold, the magnitude of his concern, causing Delenn to do what she'd wanted to do since discovering it was her love who was the intruder. She turned in his arms, seeking solace in his heat, his love.

"How you didn't manage to throttle me for running off to Z'Ha'Dum and worrying you and everyone so, I'll never know," he said into her hair.

She managed a slight laugh, the sound of it caught in his chest, to which her face was squarely planted.

John reached down, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and lifted her face to his. He kissed her, soft, lingering lips on her quivering ones. This wasn't what she wanted. Well, it was exactly what she wanted, but it muddied her thoughts, made rational thinking impossible.

Delenn tried to fight her body's response to the rush of heat flaming through every nerve ending, but it was a futile effort.

He released one cheek and placed that hand on the small of her back, pushing her further into him. John used his thumb to run his finger smoothly across her lips, coaxing her mouth open for his tongue. He slid it inside, an escaping whimper signaling her loss of control. In response, Delenn ran her hand up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling his mouth closer to her own, shamelessly enjoying the power this man had over her body, her heart.

They were moving, her backward, him forward. Her back hit the wall beside her sofa, their lips still entwined, breaths coming hard and fast. Both hands were on her waist now, gliding up and down her sides, sending bolts of sensual energy through her.

"Good, God, Delenn, what do you have on?" John rasped.

She'd forgotten.

His hips pressed her against the wall and he surveyed her clothing, with his hands, not his eyes.

"You barely have anything on at all."

She wanted to tell him that once returning to her quarters from his own, she'd completed some paperwork, showered, and put the silk camisole and matching shorts on with the intention of donning her normal night robe over top. But somewhere between deciding to rush to his quarters and getting dressed, she only managed to find and cover herself in her cloak.

But she could say none of those things to him, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, his lips, tongue, and teeth, torturously claiming her neck and shoulder, sending her head against the wall and her mouth open in a wordless moan.

Delenn felt his large hands cup her breasts and the moan was no longer wordless, no longer silent. She cried out with need, the slow, circular rubbing across her tender, achingly erect nipples delicious. But not as wonderful as the lips that followed, the silk barrier no match for his persistent tongue.

"John. Oh, John."

She moaned again, gripping his shoulders, arching into him, silently demanding more of his firm, wet mouth. And he gave it to her, opening wide, taking the soft flesh into his warm center, sucking ever so blissfully.

John stood, his hard body against hers, pressing her into the wall again, mouth seeking, finding hers. He ground himself against her, pushing her legs apart with his knee and thigh, snaking one hand under her camisole, finding her bare breast and squeezing.

"I want you so bad, honey," he said, taking her left hand, and placing it over the growing bulge in his pants. He held his hand over Delenn's, showing her exactly how he wanted her to touch him.

She did, the remaining embers of the conversation she wanted to have with him vanishing with each of his pleased moans and the rise of her sexual yearning.

He twined his fingers through her own, increasing the tempo, and then he stopped. Breathless, he said, "Where is it?"

Reeling from the abrupt cessation of sexual stimulation, Delenn blinked confused eyes at him, her mind definitely too muddled to make out what he was asking her.

He ran his finger over the fourth finger of her left hand.

"Where is it? Where is the engagement ring I gave you?"

Delenn dropped her eyes, a Gale force wind knocking her back to her senses, the fire in the room doused by an unforgiving blanket of reality.

**Part 2**

John paced Delenn's living room waiting for her to return from her bedroom, where she managed to scurry off to, claiming she needed to change her clothes. That was fifteen minutes ago and she still hadn't returned, her bedroom door firmly shut, locking her in and him out.

He had no idea what in the hell was going on, his emotions having jumped on a roller coaster and he damn sure was being taken for a ride. John tried to stay calm. He'd already blown his top earlier with Delenn, acting like the poster boy for Men Against Women's Rights.

John grabbed a chair and dropped his load, running a hand through his hair. He'd been so worried about Delenn, imagining all kinds of ill befalling her that he had forgotten that she could indeed take care of herself and had been doing so for a very long time. Still, she wasn't invincible. He snorted, grudgingly acknowledging that it was he, not her, who gotten himself killed.

But why was she out so late? And why was she wearing practically nothing under her cloak? In the heat of passion, he didn't care, but now his jealous, human male radar was beginning to beep. He shook his head, denying the conclusions he was drawing.

_She's not the unfaithful kind, John. If anything, she's too damn faithful._

Still, none of this made any sense.

_And why the devil wasn't she wearing my ring? Perhaps she realized after all what a big mistake she made in accepting the marriage proposal._

While this should've made him feel better, it didn't. John wasn't looking forward to rescinding his offer of marriage. In fact, the thought of not spending the next twenty years with Delenn made him nauseous. But, why should she be leg shackled to a dying man? If she'd already come to the same conclusion, then all the better for him. So, why did he feel like shit? And why did he feel like arguing the point?

Delenn emerged from her room, slowly sliding the door behind her when she exited, eyes not meeting his.

John stared at her and wondered what on earth had taken her so damn long. She wore an all black robe that covered her from neck to ankle. It fit her form perfectly, the sash tied at the waist, accenting her figure. It definitely wouldn't take any woman more than thirty seconds to put that thing on. So, what was she doing all that time?

_She was probably trying to figure out the best way to tell me to get lost. Thanks, but no thanks. Here's your ring and I'll see you around._

She looked tense, as tense as he felt. Delenn moved finally, taking the seat at the table across from him. She placed her hands on the table and lifted her head, blank, unreadable eyes meeting his.

This wasn't going to be good. She was in full Minbari mode, the temporary fluster she felt from his question about the ring was now gone. He should've pushed the issue when he had her cornered; instead, he'd given Delenn time to fortify herself.

_Need time to change clothes, my ass. When will you ever learn, John?_

Instead of asking about the ring, insecure John jumped in and said, "Do you make a habit of running around the station in the middle of the night naked?"

She gave him a cool look that made him feel twelve years old.

"All right, you weren't exactly naked," he continued when she failed to respond, "but I've never known you to wear so little."

Still, she said nothing. This was getting him nowhere. Unless he truly thought she was creeping out on him, he might as well let that go for now. Delenn really didn't respond well when he acted like a Neanderthal, and, no, John couldn't envision her being intimate with anyone else. Hell, they hadn't even been intimate, despite his best efforts the night of the sleep watching.

Reclining in the chair, John hoped to give off an air of cool calm. Although, no one in the universe did cool calm like the Minbari. And he watched her watch him, her eyes saying she wasn't quite convinced by his act. Still, she spoke.

"Why are you in my quarters, John?"

His eyes narrowed. He should've known. She was a dirty, little sneak, switching this around on him. Although, he admitted with a smirk, he was in her quarters through no invitation of her own. As far as she was concerned, he'd broken in. Well, he didn't actually _break_ anything to gain admittance, but that was really splitting hairs.

"You answer my question first." He just went from feeling like a twelve year old to sounding like a five year old. And let the preschool stand-off begin.

John eyed Delenn cautiously. One thing he knew about her was that if he gave a little she would as well. More importantly, he knew if he asked her a very specific, straightforward question, leaving no wiggle room, she would answer him honestly, if not grudgingly.

He placed his hands on the table, crossed his fingers, mirroring Delenn's perfect posture.

"I came to see you tonight because I couldn't sleep," he said honestly. "I wanted to speak with you. When I failed to get a response, I became worried and asked Ivanova to override your security code and admit me."

He was well aware there were holes in his story that Delenn's keen mind would've picked up, but that she would also appreciate the vagueness within the truth. She gave him a shallow smile and even shallower nod of her head. She understood perfectly. Now he could ask his questions.

"Where did you go after you left your quarters?"

"I went to your quarters, C and C, and your office, in that order."

"You were looking for me?"

"Yes, but I only found Susan. She didn't tell me, however, that she granted you access to my quarters."

The look she gave him wasn't a pleasant one, and he knew his second-in-command would hear about the ambassador's displeasure come morning. And then he would have a mad Russian hunting for him.

_Great, just great._

He wanted to ask her a _why _question, but his explanation to her question included no why details. Like 'Why couldn't you sleep?' or 'Why did you come looking for me?' He knew if he wanted details, he would have to supply a few first.

"I should have never gone to Z'Ha'Dum. It was a dumb, rash, decision."

He was going to say more, but to his surprise, she stepped in.

"It was my fault you went there. If I had been honest with you, you wouldn't have gone."

Her tone was laden with guilt; so much so, it was like a slap across his face, a dagger to his heart.

"Delenn, I'm a grown man, capable of making my own decisions. Yes, you should have told me about Anna, but you can't blame yourself for my fate."

Her eyes looked lost, hands and shoulders rigid.

John reached across the table and covered her cold hands with his own.

"No matter when or how I found out, I would've gone, Delenn. I would've eventually taken the fight to their front door."

She shook her head and he tightened his hands over hers.

"I would have. You simply can't imagine it because it's a stupid, impractical, tactical move. Just the thing that a Human would do, but one a Minbari would never contemplate."

Then he had a thought, if not an epiphany.

"Did you go to my quarters to return the engagement ring?"

She nodded her head.

"Do you not want to marry me because you blame yourself for what happened at Z'Ha'Dum?"

The nod was slower in coming this time, but accompanied by words.

"Yes, in part."

"What else is there, honey?"

She raised her eyes and tears shimmered just below the surface.

"There are things about me you don't know; things I will never bring myself to share. As much as I've changed since entering the chrystalis, I'll never be human. I have a Minbari heart, a Minbari mind."

"I know."

"I don't think you truly do. I know you understand as far as our rituals are concerned, but other things you never will."

John released her hand, got up, and drew Delenn to her feet. He held her hand and pulled her until she followed. He settled them both on her sofa before speaking.

"In the academy, I once knew this general and his wife. Everyone used to think they were the perfect couple. They had tons in common, and they never fought. Can you imagine a husband and wife who never fought, never disagreed?"

Delenn shook her head.

"Well, neither could I. Hell, my parents didn't raise the barn roof with their arguments but they sure had a few good ones."

She smiled at this and he continued.

"Anyway, one day after, oh, I guess, fifteen years of marriage, it ended."

"Why?"

"All I know is that General Howard once told me that marriage was like a ship—imperfect in its ideal design—simple, complex, hard to maintain and maneuver but worth the effort."

He raised her left hand to his mouth, pleased to see she was wearing his ring. He kissed the ringed finger, and smiled.

"No marriage is perfect, honey, not even one in which the couple never argues. I understand that truth; I've lived it. But that's no reason not to build the ship"

"But—'' she started to protest.

"You know what's wrong with you older races?"

Her body visibly stiffened and he kissed her hand again.

"You've developed, over the centuries, a higher standard than the rest of us. When we were still scratching our asses and trying to conquer fire, you were already exploring the stars. You're enlightened, disciplined, and patient. And the newer races are none of those things. We're still learning. But your one fatal flaw is that you strive for personal perfection, you expect too much from yourselves because you rarely, if ever, fail. Humans, on the other hand, fuck up all the time. We're used to it; but more importantly, we know how to get over it."

" 'Fuck up,'" she repeated and he winced. The last thing he intended was to teach her _that_ word . . . well; at least not in the context he just used it."

"It means to make a big mistake."

"Like not telling you about Anna, or pushing Kosh about her possible fate."

"Yes, or any of those secrets you're holding, refusing to let go, refusing to forgive yourself for."

John tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling her relax under his gentle touch, realizing there was no way in hell he could live the next twenty years without her.

"I don't think I'm perfect; in fact, I know I'm far from perfect."

John laughed.

"Delenn, you have no idea how far from the truth that is. You're right, no one's perfect, whatever that means, but you don't make many screw ups. You're the most honest person I know and there's nothing wrong with playing your cards close to the vest. No marriage is built on absolute honesty. And anyone who tells you differently is a damn liar."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Is that what you thought human marriages were like?"

"Yes. Minbari understand that honesty is expected at all times, except when said truth can harm, dishonor, or bring shame to oneself, clan, or caste. A higher path is always sought."

"And that is why you didn't tell me about Anna."

"Yes, I wanted to keep you from harm. But I also wanted to . . . to keep you with me."

She looked away again.

John lifted her chin and made her face him.

"You loved me, so you kept the truth from me."

"Yes."

"I loved you, so I ran off to Z'Ha'Dum to face the Shadows by myself. It all sounds pretty dumb when we say it aloud, doesn't it?"

"Yes." She laughed softly.

"Why did you accept my marriage proposal?"

She gave him another unreadable look and his heart clenched. Perhaps it had been guilt after all.

Delenn brought her hands to his cheek and said in a soft, soothing tone, "Why did you come here tonight, John?"

He tried to lower his head but she wouldn't let him, her grip firm but gently so. He could avoid it no longer.

"I . . . I . . . can only give you twenty years."

"I know."

"You deserve more than that. You deserve a husband who will live as long as you will."

She paused, clearly considering his words.

"I should be very cross with you, John Sheridan."

That wasn't exactly the response he was expecting.

"Why?"

"Do you think me so shallow that I wouldn't marry you because of your limited lifespan?"

"Well, no, I just didn't want you to feel that you had to because of some misplaced guilt or even pity. Hell, Delenn, it's a lot to come to terms with and I haven't done that yet myself. I can't expect you to just accept my fate, making it your own because I want to marry you."

She smiled. "You _really_ want to marry me, in spite of everything. And you trust me."

"Of course, Delenn, what in the hell have we been talking about for the last thirty minutes?"

They both sat back in silence. Two minutes later, John started to laugh and pulled a shocked Delenn onto his lap.

"We have to be the densest couple in the universe. I've been up all night worrying you only accepted my offer because of guilt or pity and you seemed to think you couldn't marry me because of your Minbari guilt over a mistake I've long since forgiven you for."

Delenn rested her head on his right shoulder, left arm circling his neck.

"I do feel guilty over what happened to you, but that's not why I accepted your proposal of marriage. And, yes, Minbari do guilt very well."

"And long,"

"That too."

Her fingers found the base of his head and she started the most stimulating massage. The kind that made John tightened his arms around her waist, wishing she still had on that silky, short number from earlier.

"I want you to be my wife, Delenn, even if I only have twenty years to give you. I'm just that selfish."

"I want to be your wife, John, even though I cannot promise to always bare all. But I will never lie to you. I'm too Minbari to tell you otherwise."

"Do you love me?" he asked, searching for the sash that held her robe together.

"With all my heart and soul; you must know that."

"I do, and I love you as well, honey, from death and beyond, I came back for you. Only for you, Delenn," he finished, finding the sash and untying it.

Her hand slid deeper into his hair, just when his own slipped into her robe, discovering she still wore the silky, short number.

Delenn raised her head from his shoulder, meeting his lips at the intersection of Relief Boulevard and Hope Avenue.

_God, she tastes like mint and smells of soap and woman._

"So, it's settled then. We're still engaged and plan to stay that way until we manage to kick the Shadows asses back under their rock and get married."

She couldn't answer because he was kissing her again. He didn't truly need a verbal response, the way she moved against him was confirmation enough. They would fight; they would survive; they would wed. Nothing else mattered.

Well, except this, except now, except the lava burning in him.

His mind nearly exploded when she straddled his legs and started to unbutton his shirt, her robe open, body exposed. Her legs were bare from mid thigh down, her arms, shoulders, and neck flawless in its delicate beauty.

John removed the robe almost as quickly as Delenn rid him of his shirt, her fingers exploring, mouth teasing, his erection growing. She settled over top of it, rubbing, taunting him with the wetness he could feel between her legs, pleased he could do that to her. Even more pleased she found him as stimulating as he found her.

"I thought . . . I thought . . ."

His mind wasn't worth a damn right now. There was something he had to say to her, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was. When she reached for his pants, he remembered.

"I thought you said we couldn't do this until after the third night of sleep watching, and God knows how many rituals. By my calculations, we still have one more night of watching left."

The last thing John wanted to do was put a halt to the obvious route the train was taking, but he didn't want Delenn to have any regrets come morning.

"I said it isn't normally done, not that it's expressly forbidden. To Minbari, that difference is significant."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," she said, standing and taking his hand in hers. She walked them towards the bedroom, opened the door, and moved inside. John followed.

"Meaning," she repeated, lighting several candles, and turning to face him, "we can love each other tonight and complete the sleep watching tomorrow or the day after or the day after that."

She went to her bed and lie down, John echoing her movement, settling beside her.

Delenn drew John in closer, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him deeply, her intention clear.

"If we hadn't just committed ourselves to each other," she said, taking a labored breath, "I would never consider doing this now. I would feel compelled to wait until after . . . well, many more rituals."

John didn't even want to know how many more rituals they'd have to complete before the Minbari mating ritual would be complete. He was just pleased to know that he'd unknowingly circumvented some of them, enough to have Delenn invite him to her bed. And damn if he wasn't glad to be here.

"I don't know if I can make love to you on this slanted bed."

She kissed him, ignoring his doubts.

"Have faith, John, it always manages," Delenn said, moving her hand to the buldge in his pants, touching him the way he taught her.

He slipped his hand under her camisole and found her soft, pert breast.

Ah, yes, back to where they'd left off.

If he had to slay every Shadow personally to ensure their safety and make her his wife, his mate, he would do it and to hell with their doubts and regrets.

Heck, life was full of them and they would make more over the next twenty years; he was sure of it. But what did that matter now. It didn't. She was all that ever mattered, ever since the day a Minbari, who looked more human than she should, walked into the council chamber and said, 'Ambassador Sinclair has been allowed to live on my world as an act of good faith, to create greater understanding between Minbari and humans. In return, I have undergone this change . . . with the blessings of my government . . . so that I may become a bridge between our worlds . . . in the hope that we will never again know war between us again.'

In spite of her words, in spite of the Minbari prophecy, and in spite of his own common sense, John Sheridan couldn't help but feel that, while they didn't know it yet, she'd undergone the change for him, for them, for now, for their future. And there was no doubt she was made for him and he for her, their bodies joining perfectly in pre-ordained symmetry.

No regrets. None at all.


End file.
